[Nods, a brief flash of something like anger passing over her features.]
I was. The men who took her are dead, now. [She looks at her hands, clasped together in front of her, her tone sharpening.] Sherlock was there, all this time. He came to see me in prison, he was there as I helped with the case. ... He was there after I saved Kayden, too. And all that time, until the very end... he believed I was behind it all. He believed I had a scheme, a plan-- when all I was trying to do was save my daughter. He couldn't see it, too blinded by his own prejudice and resentment towards me.
[She looks up at him again, serious.] Do you believe I am not capable of love, Porthos? That I am some kind of-- monster, who would use people, incapable of caring for anyone?